And so it begins…
With this being my first Substack publishing, I figured, what the heck, why not just follow the handy dandy step by step directions which Substack has so graciously provided and start from the beginning. OK, here we go. In the beginning I was born December 8, 1965. Next,…just kidding. I won’t do that to you.
Let’s start here. I’m someone that lives in my head. I daydream. I playout conversations with people I’m in conflict with…that includes myself. Its not uncommon for me to have multiple things rattling around up there, bumping into each other, getting all mixed up. It tends to get crowded up in the old noggin. If you’re like me, being a “head dweller” is not always a good thing. When your brain is constantly playing out the senarios of the “what ifs”, and the “if only’s”, look out…anxiety is just around the corner, and then, depression. It’s a vicious cycle. Writing has been a wonderful tool to unscramble the mess, get it out of my head, and onto something tangible like actual paper, or my computer. I love pen and paper. I adore journals with quality paper, and the feel of the perfect pen with just the right flow of ink. I’m quite partial to the Pilot Precise V5 rolling ball with black ink at the moment (P.S. not sponsored😉). Even with my horrible penmanship skills, there is something gratifying about seeing my handwritting filling up a blank page, page after page…strikethroughs, ink smears, and all. It not only frees up space in that overactive brain of mine, it gives me a sense of freedom and accomplishment as well.
As to my “late in life” novel adventure. I’ve had a story burning in my brain for no joke, about 20 years. I even would discuss the idea of it with my husband, Chris, from time to time. I plan to disclose more about that story in future publishings. As the story rattled around with everything else in my head over the years, I would think to myself, “Self, that story would make a great movie or novel. Well, too bad, self, cause you’ll never be able to do anything about it.” And that’s where it would stay. The story would morph, the characters would develope, all in my head. Until, about three years ago. The kids are all grown and moved out. My husband and I are officially empty nesters. I’d been working in medical accounting for five years at that point, and it hits me. “Remember how you’ve always wanted to write that story? Well you can. What in the world are you waiting for? You can do this! You’re a fifty-something goddess who can do whatever she wants, and nobobody can tell you otherwise.” It was a little more mindblowing and detailed than that, but you get the picture. I was so excited. I went right to my husband and said, “I’m gonna do it. I want to write. I’m gonna write a novel…my story.” And then I said, “But, if I’m gonna do this, I want to do it the right way. I’m going to pour myself into it. I want to see it all the way through to publishing it.” His response? “I’m with you in this all the way.” Chris has been my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader. So, my manuscript is completed and I’m in the process of taking the next steps.
So, why Substack?
Enter Substack. What an amazing way for me to explore my craft and empty that head of mine, while connecting with other writers and creators. I’m a Late Bloomer in this journey. I need all the connection and feedback I can get. I’m setting a goal to publish something, ie; musings, short story, etc… at lease once a week. Ugh, just typing that makes me nervous. “Come on, Self…you got this.”